Killing Loneliness
by TaiDollWave
Summary: Zach Addy thought he would only fall in love once... Until he met Glory. Zach/OFC. Inspired by Killing Loneliness by HIM
1. Memories Sharp As Daggers

AN: This was inspired by the HIM song Killing Loneliness

_AN: This was inspired by the HIM song Killing Loneliness. I hope you enjoy it._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Zach Addy or Bones. I make no money off this fic, and it never really happened. I also don't own HIM._

_Memories, sharp as daggers, pierce into the flesh of today. Suicide of love swept away all that matters, and buried the remains in an unmarked grave in your heart._

Zach Addy stood with a bunch of flowers in his hand. They were pink roses, her favorite. He gave her one for every month they had been together. Fourteen in all. He stared down at the gravestone, shiny and new. If it weren't so damn depressing, it would have been beautiful.

Gently he knelt down and laid the flowers against the stone. He wasn't sure if this was against the rules or not, but then, he really didn't care. How long had it been since he'd come out here? How long had it been since he'd gotten away from his family that thought he was a necrophiliac of some sort and just come here.

Come here to see her.

"Triana," he said her name as though that would bring her back, break the surrealism of this moment.

Triana had been the most beautiful girl in the world. At least, to his virgin sixteen-year-old eyes she had been. Even then, he had been remarkably intelligent, taking college classes along with his AP classes at the high school.

Even then, he had been an outcast. He sat alone during lunch, a textbook propped against his carton of white milk. He pretended to read while munching from his container of cold macaroni.

She'd just moved from one of the bigger cities in Michigan. Zach had heard whispers about her in the hallway. Had heard about her outrageous purple dyed hair, her black baggy pants dripping with zippers. She wore black lipstick and chewed gum. She was in AP classes too, but twirled her hair listlessly around her index finger instead of feverishly taking notes like the rest of the class.

She plunked down next to him at lunch, smelling like some dark and secret perfume and bubble gum. She pulled off the wrapping from her straw and pressed it through the tinfoil lid of her juice.

"This food blows." She said amicably. "I guess that's the one thing you know no matter where you go. In a strange, disgusting, vomit smelling way, it's almost comforting."

"Where do you live?" it sounded dumb, like he was some stalker trying to invade her privacy. But she seemed to take it all in stride, didn't miss a beat.

"East End Drive. You know, the gravel road with a million miles between all the houses?"

"No kidding?" he felt a spark. "That's where I live! You must have bought the old Jackson farm."

"Jackoff farm is more like it. It's all run down and nasty." She wrinkled her nose. Zach had to laugh. She smiled and sipped more juice.

"So what's your name?" Zach closed his book and scooted just a little closer to her.

"Triana Martin. You?"

"Zach. Zach Addy,"

They'd become best friends quickly. Early on Saturday mornings she rode over barefoot on her bike, as long as the weather permitted that lack of footwear. She wore shorts and a black t-shirt, always. She crept into the back door of his house, his parents being used to children constantly in and out of their home. (She was immediately a welcome member. A little odd, his mother said, but perfectly charming and loveable.)

She'd sneak up the narrow wooden stairs into his attic bedroom. He could barely hear her, and usually registered any sound as a dream. But always, she jumped on his bed, waking him.

"Come on, Zach. I want to go."

"Go where?" he always groaned, pulling the blankets up over his head.

"I don't know. Out. I might get the car today. Come on. We could go into town. Come on," she tugged him out of bed.

And so they went "out" as she said. Then the snow began to fall, as it always did in Michigan. She trekked over to his house bundled in her jacket and heavy jeans. She shook off the snow and often curled up on his bed with him, shivering and soaked.

For some reason, that was okay. He didn't mind her lying next to him, dyed hair and all. They spent the day at his house our hers, laying on pillows on the floor of somebody's living room, watching Disney movies at his house, or "important" movies at hers. Movies that were supposed to say something relevant about society. Somehow, he always liked watching the Disney movies better.

She wasn't so uptight then. She relaxed, resting against him as the animated creatures darted across the screen. She didn't see the need to stop the movie and ask him if he understood. He always did, but sometimes he said no just so he could hear her talking to him for a little longer.

The spring came. The ground thawed out, waking up all the grass and plants. She came over to his house again in her shorts and t-shirts. They were often splattered with paint. She was a painter, and when in the middle of a masterpiece, she stopped to do nothing than go and see him. She neither ate nor drank, slept nor rested. Her whole mind was on the painting.

"Come on, Zach. Come and play with me." She pleaded softly one late spring morning, her head against his. She sounded tired and triumphant, after she always did when completing a painting.

"Where are we going?" he sat up and yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. She got off his bed, padded over to the round window and stared down.

"Tree climbing," it was the way she said this that made him think he should have always known.

"Of course," and he slipped out of bed to put on blue jeans and his sneakers. They held hands and ran out to the fields behind Zach's house, overrun with bushes and trees. She found the perfect one. Dropping his hand, she grabbed the lowest branch and scrambled up.

Zach followed her. They spent the rest of the day perched in the tree. The sun began to go down. Triana had wormed her way beneath Zach's arm. They watched the view from the limbs, tangled up in one another.

"I wish we could stay like this forever." Triana murmured. Zach looked at her. In an overwhelming moment of love and protection, he licked his thumb and rubbed gingerly at a spot of the tempura paint on her face.

"Why can't we?" he asked softly.

"Because we have to be grown up. And when you grow up, people change." She snuggled into him a little deeper, as though he could ward off this fearful change that both of them could sense coming.

"Maybe not. You're right," he was getting excited. "You love me, don't you, Triana?"

"Of course," the way she said it make Zach feel silly for ever doubting it.

"So marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me," he repeated. She looked at him blankly and he started to wonder if maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut.  
"Marry me. I promise you can climb all the trees you want." She smiled then and the tension broke.

"Okay, Zach," she giggled. "I'll marry you. Three weeks after we graduate, I'll marry you."

His days began to pass by blissfully after that. He'd see her pass him by in the halls, hair still purple, pants still dripping zippers and chains. They smiled at each other, walked one another to class when possible, hands linked. The word began to spread that they were "going out".

And then one day, she changed. Zach couldn't put his finger on exactly the right day, point out the exact moment, but there was something wrong. She began coming to school spattered in paint. She still held his hand, but their conversations had become thin and strained.

She stopped coming over to wake him up, refused to talk to him when he went to her house. He sat in the corner of her room, watching her paint. Her paintings had become deeply disturbing. They depicted scenes of the most horrible ways to die. Crucifixions, stabbing, beatings, being tied to horses and pulled apart. They made Zach shudder. He couldn't not watch, though. It was as though he were possessed. She was truly beautiful when like this.

He woke up one morning, three weeks into this madness that she had begun to call life. There was a strange feeling in the air. It was heavy like mourning, and yet there was the taste of relief after it. Zach sat up slowly, clearing his throat.

He slipped the blankets off of his body and stood up, shivering as his bare feet hit the cold of the hardwood floor. He padded over to his little round window, arms crossed over his chest.

A sheet of fog covered the world, so thick you couldn't see through it. The sky through the film looked gray. He could tell already that this was not going to be a very good day as far as the weather went.

Or for her. She was gone. Zach could feel it right down in his bones. He closed his eyes and could almost see her lying on her bed, could smell her smell, a mix of death and her perfume. There was the fetid order of stagnant blood, pooled at the floor.

His eyes snapped open, and he couldn't quite catch his breath. His heart was thudding in his chest. His fingernails were digging into his forearms. Zach blinked a few times before rushing to his dresser and pulling on a sweater and socks. He hopped precariously down the stairs, pulling on his shoes all the white.

And Zach began to run. He ran faster and further than he thought would be possible. He ran all the way to her house. He skidded to a stop, almost falling, just in front of her porch.

There was an ambulance in her driveway, marked with the large red cross. Her mother and father were sitting on the porch swing in their pajamas. She had on a long floral print cotton nightgown, and he was wearing a striped outfit. If they hadn't had that shell-shocked look on their face, it would have been quaint. She even had curlers in her hair.

"Zach," she looked at him, but not quite at him. It was almost as though she were looking right through him.  
"The sirens didn't wake you, did they?"

"Where's Triana? Is she okay?" he knew the answer even as he asked the question. As it turned out, her parents didn't have to respond.

Paramedics came, carrying a stretcher between them. Zach's mouth dropped open. There was a white sheet drawn up over her body, sort of like the fog. And like the fog, if you squinted hard enough you could make out vague features. It looked like she was smiling.

"Go upstairs," her father didn't even look at him. He just stared at the fog. Zach glanced at Triana's mother, who nodded once. Slowly, carefully he picked his way over the porch and into the house.

He walked up the creaky steps and into her room, covered by paintings and punk rock posters. Clothes came spilling from her dresser and closet, mostly black and red and ripped with lots of metal on them.

There in the corner was a painting. Zach could tell the paint was still wet on it. It was a painting of two people. One was clearly Triana, the other Zach. They were holding hands and smiling. She was wearing a bridal gown, he was in a tux.

Together Forever, a banner above them read in script. Attached to the corner was a note saying simply; "I'm sorry. I love you." Zach grabbed the painting and carried it downstairs, out of the house, not speaking to the parents.

They buried her on a Friday. Her parents picked a small plot, far in the back. They refused to buy her a headstone, saying she had disgraced them by committing that… that crime against God.

Suicide. They meant suicide.

Zach had come there every Saturday until he'd had to go to Washington DC. And then, the very instant he had enough money for it, he bought her a headstone. He engraved her name, the day she was born and the day she died. Underneath, he had one simple message.

Beloved artist. She had been his beloved artist.


	2. With The Venomous Kiss You Gave Me

With the venomous kiss you gave me, I'm killing loneliness

_AN: A thank you goes out to Time and Fate for the review. This chapter is for you!_

_With the venomous kiss you gave me, I'm killing loneliness. With the warmth of your arms, you saved me. Oh I'm killing loneliness with you. I'm killing loneliness that turned my heart into a tomb. I'm killing loneliness._

Zach was curled up in the passenger seat of Hodgins' car. His arms were crossed over his chest and his head was against the glass of the window. Normally, the man drove like a maniac, but these quiet times in the morning, it always seemed to Zach like he slowed down. He'd never admit it, but it was probably so he didn't wake up.

He only half slept really. He could tell when they were getting nearer to the Jeffersonian. Hodgins would slow down through the parking lot, ever vigilant against other drivers. He couldn't bear to have that tiny little car scratched up. They cruised around for about ten minutes before Hodgins got to his spot.

Today though, they stopped suddenly. Zach was unprepared for the sudden halt. His head flew off the glass. Had the seatbelt not been quite so tight, his forehead would have met the dashboard quite intimately.

"Hey!" he protested, opening his eyes. Hodgins threw him a look and then nodded at a figure walking just behind the car. She was wearing white knee-highs, a pair of Mary Janes, and a plaid shirt that fell just above her knees and a white button down blouse. There were familiar looking ear buds in her ear, and Zach could make out an iPod attached to her hip.

She was walking a strange way, almost to the beat of the song. Her lips were moving ever so slightly, and if you squinted, you could almost make out words. Hodgin's rolled down his window.

"GIRL!" he shouted. The girl jumped and spun, glaring. She yanked the ear buds out of her head.  
"Do you want a ride closer to the museum?"

"No, thanks." She said coolly. Zach could hear the wailing of some singer. It was a band he didn't think he knew about.  
"I've heard plenty of stories about kind looking men in cars offering rides to young girls like me. I do watch the news, you know."

"I'm not a pervert."

"I'm sure they all say that." She rolled her eyes. Hodgins laughed. He leaned back. Zach leaned forward. Their eyes met. She had brown eyes that seemed to drink in everything around her. Her hair was long and dark brown, in a braid down her back.

"Why don't you take the shuttle?" he sputtered after swallowing a few times. The girl looked at him strangely as though he had just asked her how many UFOs she had spotted.

"Have you been on that thing? It smells--,"

"Like feet." He finished for her. She looked at him strangely again before breaking into laughter.

"So you do know then." She plugged herself back into the MP3 player and started walking. The conversation was clearly over. Zach sat back and looked out the window.

"You like her," Hodgins said suddenly. The younger man blinked and then turned to look at his companion.

"I talked to her for a grand total of three seconds."

"Aaah, love at first sight." The bug man placed his hand against his chest and fluttered his eyelashes in a mock flirty way.

"What? No, that's not even logical. Love isn't logical." He grumbled. Hodgins pulled into their spot. He turned and smirked at Zach.

"You liiiike her." He sang.

"I do not! Maybe you like her. You're the one who stopped the car and asked her if she wanted a ride. Something I, by the way, never would have done." He added quickly.

"But I was being a gentleman." Hodgins shrugged. Zach stammered fruitlessly for a few minutes. The curly haired man turned off the car. He undid his seatbelt and opened the door. Zach was still sitting in the seat, looking dumbfounded. He turned and grinned.  
"You so totally like her."

"So, Zach." Angela purred later that afternoon. "I know her name."

"Whose?" he looked up from the bones he was cleaning. "Her's?"

"No! HERS!"

"I'm confused." He sighed. Angela rolled her eyes. She dropped into the stool next to Zach and watched him work for a few minutes.

"The girl in the white stockings with the iPod?" Angela winked. Zach felt his face heat up.

"I'm going to murder Hodgins and then crash his car."

"Relax honey! I know her name. She's volunteering here for the summer. Her mom works in children's outreach. She's a tour guide for the children's section. Human anatomy,"

"What's her name?" he whispered as he stopped. He had been reaching for a metal pick to chip away some of the caked on mud. But he had to hear this. He had to know.

"Glory,"

"Gloria?" he turned and looked at her quizzically.

"No, just Glory. Glory Hallelujah is her full name. Her mother was in some sort of haze caused by the painkillers when she named her. It suits her though. I just had lunch with her." Zach dropped his pick.

"You what?"

"I had lunch with her. She's perfectly charming. We had a lovely discussion about how your bone structure determines some of your facial features and plastic surgery." She paused and shrugged. "I tried to get her to talk about movies and books and music, but she wasn't interested."

"Really?" he said as evenly as he  
could. He picked up the little piece of metal and began chipping meticulously away at the dirt.

"She asked about you."

"What did she want to know?" he stopped again.

"Who you were. Where you worked. How old you were. Just the normal things," she shrugged. Zach nodded.

"I want to know that about her."

"She's sixteen, Zach. Too young for you. Too bad, too. She's wonderfully charming. You'd really like her." She hopped up off the stool.

Zach spent the rest of the day thinking about it. He was twenty-four. Was that really such a difference? Reason told him yes, but something else inside of him screaming that it wasn't.

Hodgins had to stay late to examine some dirt and feces from the latest crime scene. He tossed Zach his keys and told him to go ahead and go on home. There was no reason he had to stay and try and sleep on the hard couch if he didn't have to.

It was raining when he stepped outside. He put his arms up over his head in an attempt to keep the wetness out of his hair. It always got so curly when it was wet, something his mother lamented over.

"Glory!" he called out. She was trying to run on those high-stacked Mary Janes to the bus stop. She stopped, almost slipping to the ground on the wet blacktop. She squinted until she recognized him in the rain. Her hair was loose, soaked by the rain. She was shivering. Her blouse was wet right through, and he could make out the lacy cami she wore beneath it.

"Zach?"

"Come on; let me give you a ride. You're going to get drenched in the rain. You'll get sick." He realized this made him sound like an older man, who was what he really didn't want her to think of him as, but if it got her in the car, maybe it was worth it.

She hesitated for a minute and then ran over to him, her shoes splashing in the rain. Soon she was right next to him, and he could smell her scent. She was a mix of the falling rain and something sweet and fruity that was familiar, and yet Zach couldn't quite place it.

They walked in silence to the car. Zach opened her door for her. She quickly sat down and closed the door. He could see her shake the rain from her hair and sit back, looking up at the rain thoughtfully.

"How did you know my name?" he asked as he put the key in the ignition.

"Angela told me."

"Of course she did," damn her. Why was she constantly interfering in his life like this? Hadn't she said herself that Glory was too young for him? He put the car in gear and they began to drive.

"I know she didn't tell you the whole truth about our conversation."

"Oh?" he felt his guard go up. What was he going to hear now? That s he thought he was perverted? That she was a lesbian? That she was in training to be a nun? Any of these sounded pretty terrible indeed.

"When I told her that I liked you, her face sort of fell, you know? She said that you were too old for me. She said that I should probably just stay away from you. But I wasn't going to do that." He was shocked. He took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her and noticed the blush creeping up onto her cheeks.

"What?" he said dumbly.

"I like you. I know it's really strange, because I talked to you for like, two seconds this morning, but I even liked you then." She was bright red. Zach cleared his throat and drove on. After a moment, he reached over, hand trembling and covered her cold hand with his.

"I like you, too, Glory."

"Good," she smiled then. Zach drove on in the rain. After a mile or so, he couldn't take it anymore. He pulled into a fairly abandoned parking lot. He cut the engine, and without dropping her hand, he turned to look at her.

"Glory, listen…" he stopped and started again. "I don't think I could ever feel about anyone again."

"Of course you can!" she scoffed in a sweet way. She undid her belt. His heart began to thud in his chest as he undid his. She slid across the seat, her lips parted slightly. Her small hands gripped his shoulders, and she pulled herself so her head was level with his.

Gently, she pressed her lips against his. Zach gasped against her mouth and found himself returning her kiss. His tongue found its way into her mouth. Her arms wound around his neck. She was so soft and warm.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this. This was wrong wrong wrong, right right right! Nothing had ever felt so perfect to him before. When they parted, the stone that had surrounded his heart seemed to shatter.

"Don't tell a soul," he said sternly. She nodded solemnly.

"Take me home, Zach." She slipped back into her own seat and buckled up. Without a word, he started to car to take her home.


End file.
